


Stiles Has a Plan

by Obsessivecompulsivereadr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Stiles, First Kiss, M/M, POV Stiles, Stiles is a Little Shit, Stiles is also pushy, canonically dead characters are not dead, no reference to S3 and on, not canon compliant at all after S2, there are only mentions of other pack members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessivecompulsivereadr/pseuds/Obsessivecompulsivereadr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been planning to wait until all the other pack members left before he put his plan into action.  If he could even call it a plan.  Putting his life on the line to make a move on Derek Hale could more closely resemble a ‘’bad idea” than a usable ‘’plan.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Has a Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: normal underage issues but since it's not explicit it's not a hard warning, one reference to the word ''slutty" used as internal dialogue, and I can't think of anything else that needs a warning - if you see something that you think needs it, then let me know and I'll add it.

Stiles had been planning to wait until all the other pack members left before he put his plan into action. If he could even call it a plan. Putting his life on the line to make a move on Derek Hale could more closely resemble a ‘’bad idea” than a usable ‘’plan.” But he figured that as much as he hated rejection, he was at least used to it. Had been used to it for years. So he’d make his move, be summarily rejected, and then he could move on without the cloud of What Ifs hanging above him. He was sure not about to spend his time living in suspended rotation around Derek like he had with Lydia Martin.

And what was that adage? The only way to get over someone was to get under someone else? Well, it didn’t perfectly apply to his situation because it’s not like he had anything about Lydia to get over. He’d already accomplished that part. It was the getting under someone else part he was planning out now. It’s not like Derek wouldn’t know why Stiles was hanging around, waiting for him. According to Scott, Stiles put out more signal beacons than the barely used lighthouse at the top of Old Beacon Hill. So Derek would be able to figure out his intentions immediately.

He only wished he could so easily read what Derek felt the way Derek could with him.

Stiles walked over to his bag and pulled out a tennis ball. It gave him something to do with his hands when he got too full of energy. He squeezed it in one hand before he tossed it up into the air and caught it. It helped him focus his breathing and it was much more constructive than some of the things he used to do... like picking apart his lacrosse gear without realizing it. His attention problems and hyperactivity had never really responded to his medication, which is why he misused it most of the time. He felt like a walking time bomb on a regular basis. His mind always racing. His body always moving. His mouth never shutting. He’d learned to deal with most of it, but he knew he could get on other people’s nerves when he didn’t have something to focus his energy on.

He threw the ball up and caught it again. Squeezed it for luck. And then he decided.

“Derek, we need to talk about some things,” he called out.

“No, actually, we don’t,” Derek shouted from the kitchen, and Stiles snorted because only Derek would think that ploy would actually work.

Stiles sighed as he stepped into the doorway to face the man. “You know we need to talk.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stiles,” Derek answered as he retrieved a coffee mug from the cabinet. His hand hesitated before grabbing the coffee pot and filling the mug on the counter. If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think Derek’s hand was shaking.

“I know that’s a lie. I can’t prove it’s a lie, because I’m not a walking lie detector, so you have a little bit of an advantage over me,” Stiles said as he walked into the room. “But I still know that’s a lie.”

Derek’s eyes glanced towards the tennis ball, and Stiles squeezed it out of habit, resisting the temptation to throw it at Derek to distract him and put him off guard. Piss him off. Get him to react to something.

“What are you talking about?” Derek said gruffly, obviously taking the route of intimidation and avoidance. As usual. But Stiles wasn’t going to let him this time.

Stiles snorted at Derek's glare of resistance, “Okay. So this is how you’re going to play this. Look, nobody else is here. There’s no pack member in the house to overhear you. It’s not going to kill you to be honest. It might kill me, but I’m pretty sure you won’t go that far. It’s been quite a while since my back and the wall got intimately acquainted.”

Derek took a sip of his coffee and turned away to face the counter.

Stiles tossed the ball into the air just a few inches and caught it again, eyes focusing on it instead of Derek, “I’m serious.”

“About what?”

“I want to know how you feel,” Stiles caught the ball one more time and just held it and he looked at Derek.

“How I feel about what?” Derek turned back around and sipped his coffee.

“Well, me. Before you flip out,” he held up a hand to keep Derek from interrupting, “hear me out. People may think I don’t see things because I’m human, but I do. And I think you know that I do, and that’s why you come to me so often. Boyd picks stuff up. Some of the rest don’t. But I do. And I want to know the truth. I’m tired of wondering if the things you do around me are intentional or just instinct. Or both actually, because that info would be helpful too. You know. For future reference.”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, placed his coffee mug back on the counter, and then crossed his arms in front of him. The shirt stretched to reveal arms Stiles wanted to get his hands on just once. Just once. That’s all he would ask for and he’d be a good boy for the rest of his life if he could just get that one chance.

“I’m glad you did that,” Stiles pointed at him with the hand holding the tennis ball. “That was another tangent, and half of that was not what I wanted to talk about in the first place.”

He didn’t mind whenever Derek interrupted him, because Stiles understood that his mind just worked differently than most people’s minds, and he could talk and talk and never even realize he was saying some things out loud.

“What do you want to talk about, Stiles?”

“How you feel about me. I’m just going to lay it out here on the table,” he said as he gestured to the table separating them. “Metaphorically. There is the potential for me to lay it out on the table literally, but before I go that far, I figured some mutual agreement might be nice.”

“Stiles…”

“Okay, just listen. Sometimes you do things that make me think you, I don’t know… might want me. I’m not sure because the vibes I get confuse me sometimes. And I’m really tired of being confused about it, to be honest. I’d like to know the truth. So am I wrong? Should I be embarrassed about asking you this, because if I should, then could you tell me quickly so I can get out of here with some of my dignity intact? And if I’m right, can we talk about it?” Stiles stopped himself this time, because no matter how eloquently this conversation had gone in his head, he should have known that the actual discussion would have gone sour.

“You’re not,” Derek said quietly.

Stiles nodded and threw the tennis ball in the air one more time, letting his eyes follow it as he caught it on the way back down.

Okay, so he’d been wrong. He could, and would, handle it. Just like he handled everything.

“I’ll go then. Thanks for telling me,” Stiles put the ball down on the table with an air of finality, a pointless action since it wasn’t like this would be the last time he’d be here. He was still pack, and he’d be expected to be here normally no matter how this night had gone. He’d known that from the beginning when he decided to take this chance.

Stiles turned to leave Derek’s kitchen.

“Stiles, wait.” He glanced back at Derek,

“What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Away. Out of the room. Wherever is less uncomfortable for both of us, honestly.”

“Why?” Derek looked and sounded confused, and that was just making Stiles feel like he’d been left out of the loop somewhere, but he knew what he’d heard.

“Because you said I’m not,” Stiles fidgeted under the archway and threaded a hand through his hair. “I’m not an idiot, Derek.”

“I meant you’re not wrong. That was the first half of your question. The part I was answering.”

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. Well, now he did feel like the idiot he claimed not to be.

Derek walked around the table towards him. Stalked would be a better word, actually, because Derek was a professional at stalking, and he made it look really good. But then again, Derek made most things look good. Stiles stood very still, contemplating whether or not a joke about predator and prey would be appropriate at this moment. It probably wasn’t, but it also wouldn’t be the first time he’d joked inappropriately around Derek either.

He was nervous. And aroused. And well, being both nervous and aroused summed up his usual experiences with Derek Hale.

“Oh,” Derek repeated when he got to where Stiles was standing.

“Okay, so this is interesting. I honestly saw this ending the other way. Which is why I was so, you know, not freaked out when I thought you were voting that direction. Because I could totally understand that decision, believe me. In fact, it’s this decision I’m worried about,” he gestured back and forth between them. “Because you are you. And I am me. And I’m just…”

Derek stopped his babbling with two fingers placed gently over Stiles’s mouth. “Stop.”

Stiles nodded slightly, unwilling to move too much in case it dislodged Derek’s touch. He really liked that touch. A lot. And the feeling of Derek’s touch on his lips was certainly the most erotic thing he’d ever felt. And while that was pathetic, since he was not quite eighteen years old, he couldn’t deny that it was true. While everybody at school had been okay when he’d come out as bisexual, nobody in his peer group had ever been interested in getting all up on Stiles, which was a shame because he really was awesome even if he was the only person who saw that most of the time.

Well, maybe he could now count Derek among the people who saw how awesome he is.

“Stop thinking,” Derek smiled, and his fingers stayed right where they were, continuing to silence any possible words that could spill out of Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles nodded but kept silent.

“I’m going to move my fingers, but I want you to stay quiet for a minute so I can tell you what you want to hear, okay?”

This was starting to feel like a negotiation rather than a life-changing moment in a near-relationship. Stiles nodded again, but before Derek could pull his finger away, Stiles winked at him and kissed his finger quickly.

He’d promised to be quiet. He hadn’t promised to be good.

Derek narrowed those gorgeous eyes at him, and Stiles couldn’t resist giving him another wink. It felt like a weight had lifted off him from the moment that Derek had said that he hadn’t been wrong about the vibes he’d been getting from the werewolf. Derek did want him, and Stiles was going, for once in his life, be silent until he heard what he’d been waiting for.

“I have wanted you for a while. Probably even longer than I actually realized. Definitely more than I should.”

Stiles groaned a little, and Derek’s eyebrows rose in amusement. He could probably smell arousal all over Stiles, and that was just irritating. Because while Derek would know exactly when Stiles wanted him, and he probably had been able to smell it for months, Stiles would always be in the dark without being able to read Derek’s body language. And his eyebrows. And his glower, which while very sexy was sometimes unreadable even to Stiles.

“Shh,” Derek continued. “Listen to me.”

Stiles glared but he said nothing.

“You are reading everything right, Stiles. There are times I have to check myself before I try to maul you, and if you make a dog joke right now, I’m kicking you out.”

The sound that escaped Stiles’s mouth at the word _maul_ was just… well, humiliating, to be honest. It was a mixture of longing and frustration, and there was no way Derek would take it for anything else but want, and the expression on Derek’s face was one of pure satisfaction. Stiles fought off the desire to adjust himself in his tightening jeans, because while Derek would be able to smell his arousal, there was no way he was going to give him the visual proof.

Well, unless he asked to see it. Nicely.

Or unless he threw Stiles against the wall and demanded it of him, because truthfully, that would get Stiles off too, and it was a sad but honest fact of his life at the moment. Because Stiles had issues.

Derek just smirked down at him and stepped closer, “I would love to have you. Many times. In many different positions.”

Stiles’s knew his brow had to be furrowing. That sounded an awful lot like something he’d said to Scott once. But Scott wasn’t smooth enough or aware enough of Stiles and his needs to have even mentioned it to Derek. Or someone had recorded Stiles’s freak-out in the boys’ locker room and let Derek in on it, but since that idea was humiliating, Stiles was electing to ignore that thought until it went away.

“But I’m not going to ask that of you,” Derek said.

Wait, what? 

Okay, they were obviously not on the same wavelength if Derek was deciding that those desires should not be acted upon.

“Why??? Is it the age thing?” Stiles’s voice sounded husky, even to his own ears, and that was just more irritating. He had so many tells that gave away how he was feeling and what he wanted that Derek could probably read him like a book even without engaging his wolf powers.

“To be honest, yes.”

“Unfair. And uncool,” Stiles pointed at him. “It’s not like that’s something I can fix about myself right now.”

“But...” Derek began.

“No, you don’t get a ‘but’ now. Metaphorically or literally. You want me, but you have no intention of doing anything about it. Ever?”

Stiles knew Derek had a ‘thing’ where he always had to do right by people and live up to his family name, and all that other shit that always got them into trouble when the bad guys of the week came to town, but this decision was the limit for Stiles. He was tired of wanting. No, he was tired of wanting and never being able to do anything about it. That’s the part he was tired of, and he was not about to let this go without a fight.

“Stiles.” And there it was, the tone. It always came with one of Derek’s signature frowns. A frown that was hard to fight because it was all Derek and his family honor and his martyr issues and there was nothing in that tone that held anything good for Stiles.

“So that’s it? I get nothing more than everybody else in the pack does? I get the protection. I get the comfort of knowing that you’d put yourself on the line for me just as much as you would Erica. Or Isaac. Or Boyd. Or Scott. Erica and Boyd have each other. Scott has Allison. And Isaac to be honest. Jackson has Lydia. And you want me but also _don’t_ want me because I’m too young. So I’m pack. And what? Nothing else?”

Stiles had prepared himself for this decision, but when Derek had begun to give him hope, Stiles had thrown out his ‘taking it well’ mentality. He was probably doing a good job of reminding Derek just how young he was with his tirade, but since Derek didn’t intend to do anything anyway, what did it matter? He could sound as petulant as he wanted to in order to get his point across.

“Stiles,” Derek repeated.

“Oh my god, I’m so tired of the ‘Stiles’ all the time. I get it. Everything that disappoints you or irritates the shit out of you gets released into one loud groan of my name. I’m tired of wanting you but standing off to the side and just watching. I’m tired of always being worried about you, about whether or not you’ll get killed the next time you go out, but never being able to touch you when you get back, just to reassure myself that no, you didn’t get wolfsbaned by a hunter in the past few hours when I wasn't around to fix you. I’m tired of wondering, and now that I know that you want me too, that’s it? All I get is honesty and a brush off? I’d have preferred it if you’d just let me think I was wrong about it.” Stiles jerked away from him and headed to the living room, with the intent of leaving before he got angrier and said things that he didn’t mean that would make his life even more awkward.

“Stiles,” Derek said firmly.

“Oh my god, did I not just say something about that?” Stiles turned, flailing limbs and all, when Derek stopped him.

“You’re so young,” Derek answered simply.

“I know that. Believe me. But that doesn’t change anything for me. If it did, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Derek’s hand lifted, as if he were planning to touch Stiles’s face, but then he lowered it again, making a fist as he retreated, both physically and emotionally.

“You didn’t let me finish. Again.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I want to hear anymore,” Stiles admitted. He would rather get out of the house without making the situation worse. He still had to deal with Derek during pack issues and whatever battles would be coming their way in the future. And he’d rather be able to handle it without the awkwardness. He already had to deal with constant longing and attraction that were going to, for the foreseeable future, go physically unrequited. And even if the feelings weren’t emotionally unrequited, Derek wasn’t going to do anything about them.

“Please listen,” Derek said softly.

“Why?” Stiles whispered. “It sounds to me like you’ve already made your decision. That’s what you mean about the whole not asking me thing, right?”

“Not really.”

“Would you stop and just explain then?”

“I want you to not have to face the idea of being with me while you’re still only seventeen years old. I know you think I have a martyr complex, but people in my life get hurt or they try to hurt me. I don’t have a lot of control over that and it sometimes it seems like the entire world is out to destroy me. I’m not trying to be a martyr if I want to avoid putting you in danger.”

And then suddenly all the fight was just gone from Stiles.

“I’m already in danger,” Stiles reached out and laced his fingers with Derek’s. “But when I’m with you, I feel safer.”

“Stiles,” Derek squeezed his hand and raised it to hold it against his own heart. Stiles’s breath caught at the warmth emanating from Derek’s body. “I want you. But it’s more than that, and it’s definitely not that easy.”

“You don’t want it to be just sex.”

Derek smiled wryly. “That’s straight to the point.”

“I can summarize. I can even outline with bullet points and everything. I just choose not to most of the time,” Stiles smirked. “I could even make you a powerpoint presentation about how this is not just about sex for me, if you would be interested in checking that information out.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered. This time his name was softer and reverent.

“Yeah?”

“You need to go home. Please.”

Stiles closed his eyes and bit back another moan, “This isn’t fair, Derek.”

“I know that. But even if we work through the problem of you being in danger all the time by being with me, you’re not eighteen yet. It’s illegal.”

“So is killing people to death. But this town seems to be full of people who like to do that, and so far none of them have gotten locked up."

Derek pressed his lips together tightly, as if to stave off a laugh.  

"Besides, my dad would probably just go on and shoot you first. Then BAM… werewolf healing in full effect and we’re good to go again.”

“ _Stiles_.”

Stiles sighed and looked up at him, “I just want to be with you.”

“I know. I want that too. I want it so much that I want to ignore what my brain is telling me.”

“Ignoring your brain could be good,” Stiles tried again. “I mean listen, it’s not like we have to go straight to doing anything right? We could spend time together. And maybe in a month or two, we could, I don’t know, do something crazy like hold each other’s hand again after we beat the next bad guy’s ass. And then a few months after that, we could, oh I don’t know, maybe kiss each other on the cheek in celebration of making it through another month without a major lycanthropic war. We could go slow. Like molasses slow. Like winter is coming kind of slow. And then by the time your guilt goes away, I’ll be eighteen and surprise, you’re allowed to have me.”

Derek closed his eyes with a laugh, “Was that impromptu or planned out as part of your argument?”

“That perfection was right off the cuff, thank you very much,” Stiles smiled at him.

“You are hard to resist, do you realize that?”

Derek’s gaze had flickered up to Stiles’s mouth, and he breathed a little shallowly at the idea of Derek looking at his mouth. And that was good. That was progress as far as Stiles was concerned.

“I am?” Stiles smiled at him. He really wanted to be hard to resist right now. That idea was now at the top of his list of things he wanted to do or be when he was all grown up. And that idea had never even been on that list before tonight. The idea had actually made it to the list and rocketed up to the top of the list in the twenty or so seconds it had taken Stiles to evaluate its merits. Because Derek, when he looked at Stiles like that, made him feel as if he was already ‘all grown up,’ and that was just this side of scary as shit.

“Yes, you are,” Derek stepped closer and backed Stiles toward the wall. “And you really need to stop bringing things here that draw attention to your fingers.”

“And my back is having intimate relations with the wall again. Good to know that part of our relationship hasn’t changed,” Stiles grinned just as Derek’s words sank in. “Wait. What about my fingers? Do you _like_ my fingers?”

“Shit,” Derek seemed to realize what he’d done and turned to move away, but Stiles reached out and grabbed his bicep, sliding his hand down it.

Derek looked down at Stiles’s offending hand, or maybe his fingers, but the look definitely did not include the glare that used to come out whenever he touched Derek without permission. Derek looked almost pleased that Stiles had initiated anything.

“Wait. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“We can’t even explore? How will we ever get the chance to know how we feel about each other if you won’t even kiss me? A kiss isn’t sex.”

“Kissing you will lead to sex,” Derek replied, his eyebrows raised in challenge. And well, okay. That was good to know. That was all kinds of important right now.

That stupid slutty little moan let itself out again, and Stiles really just hated how easily Derek could take him apart without even touching him. It was embarrassing really. He was going to turn into one of those guys that came in his pants thirty seconds into frotting if this trend continued.

“It doesn’t have to. We both have free will and self-control and everything. You have your anchor, and I have my sarcastic mouth. A sarcastic mouth which really needs to learn how to do something besides talk, right? It needs experience, don’t you think?”

“ _Stiles_.”

“ _Derek_.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“I know. None of my ideas are good most of the time. It’s my thing, and I own it. But this is important. This is the most important research of my life since I figured out I’m bisexual, Derek. Research is necessary if I’m going to make a conscious decision about you and me in the future. You can’t expect us to avoid each other for six months and then just jump into sex as soon as I’m legal,” Stiles replied, sure he was making sense on some level.

Derek stilled under his touch and looked down at Stiles’s hand on him. “No sex.”

“Okay.”

“None, Stiles.”

“I want to negotiate that, but for now, we’ll just kiss. We can do that, right?”

“Yes,” Derek sighed.

“How about a little fooling around fully clothed?”

“Stiles.”

“Look, Stiles wants to have a good time in many different positions too, you know. But Stiles is willing to compromise.”

“Why are you talking in third person?” Derek eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised again.

“I don’t even know. Just go with it. How about a little frottage? A little coming in our pants stuff?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek warned, but with a very sexy little groan that shot straight through Stiles’s body like lightning.

“Okay, you want to but you are officially saying no. Got it. How about hand jobs?”

“Stiles.”

“Blow jobs?”

“Stiles.”

“Work with me, man,” Stiles threw his hands up in frustration.

“I would, but you’re negotiating up and not down!”

“I know that! I was trying to trip you up!”

Derek caught one hand and slid up against Stiles, pressing him against the wall, and Stiles would swear he’d muttered something about how Stiles was about to be the one getting tripped up. Stiles used his free hand to cup Derek’s bicep, because that was something he’d wanted to do all night. They were finally close enough and he had no intention of leaving here tonight without having had his hands somewhere on Derek’s body.

“This is why we have to limit what we do. Do you feel this?” Derek whispered, his face so close to grazing over Stiles’s cheek. And Derek hadn’t shaved, so if he gave in and brushed their cheeks together, the sandpaper feel of his stubble would probably drive Stiles out of his mind.

“Oh, I feel it alright,” Stiles answered. It was there. A tension between them. An area of space, of air, between them that was charged with some sort of electricity that just made Stiles thrum with excitement. With desire. With the urge to touch and taste and devour Derek, and that was so not on the list of things Stiles was allowed to do.

“This is why I can’t touch you,” Derek muttered as he dropped Stiles’s hand. “Because it will not stop at touching.”

“It was nothing but touching just now, and you handled it. You haven’t wolfed out and devoured me.”

“Yet,” Derek murmured.

Stiles groaned again because that was all kinds of unfair. He really wanted to be devoured tonight, and the fact that Derek was essentially saying it was on the table if they kept touching was not actually doing much to make him want to stop touching.

“Okay, that was just unfair. You haven’t even kissed me yet, so how is devouring me on the table first?”

“Because you smell incredible,” Derek breathed in deeply, at the crook of Stiles’s neck, and he felt goosebumps cover his skin in reaction. “You smell like pack, but there’s an underlying scent that I can’t pinpoint, and you also smell like you want me, and all I want to do is roll around in that scent right now. But I can’t do that.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, turning his head slightly so that he could see the side of Derek’s face. “The fact that you say things like that makes it hard to control myself, and I’m not even remotely wolfish. And you should reward me for not making a dog joke about that rolling around in my scent comment.”

Stiles felt Derek laugh more than he actually heard it.

“I want you Stiles. That was never the issue. But I need you to be able to make this decision as an adult. I cannot risk pressuring you into this and you figure out later that it’s not what you want. I’m not going to screw that up. I made a mistake, more than once, by not paying attention to my instincts and dealing with them intelligently. And I don’t intend to repeat that.”

“Okay, I can understand that. But I still want to be kissed, and you said kissing was allowed.”

Really, that part of this relationship was non-negotiable as far as Stiles was concerned. “If you don’t kiss me, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures,” Stiles warned with a smirk.

“Yeah? Like what?” Derek murmured in his ear.

“This,” Stiles grinned and pulled Derek’s face toward him, crashing their mouths together painfully. Stiles groaned a little at the harsh contact, but he wasn’t going to back down. He wrapped one hand around the back of Derek’s neck and tugged at him, pulling him closer. The other hand cupped Derek’s face, fingers brushing against the stubble on his cheek. His fingers exploring the scratchiness of it, making him want to taste it. To graze his mouth over the stubble, to lick it and feel the roughness against his tongue.

Derek leaned into him but didn’t touch him again. Besides holding his hand, the only actual touch Derek had initiated were the two fingers he’d placed over Stiles’s mouth to quiet him. Stiles leaned against the wall and pulled Derek with him, reveling in how easy Derek had been to move. He’d expected Derek to be stoically proud and standoffish. To reject his seduction technique. To not react to his kiss. But Derek seemed to melt against him. His arms were braced against the wall on either side of Stiles, holding himself up, away from Stiles’s body so as not to press him too hard against the surface.

He was reacting to the kiss though. Nipping at Stiles’s mouth, tugging at his lower lip, and moaning. The sound was beautiful. The sound of Derek giving in to his wants. His needs. Giving in to Stiles. Stiles kissed him more, intent on getting as much contact in as he could manage before Derek got control again. Before Derek realized what was going on. Before he retreated and left Stiles a messy heap of hormones and want that would not get assuaged anytime soon.

Derek’s mouth worked against him, and he licked into Stiles’s mouth, diving into the kiss and tugging at his bottom lip again. He’d had always had a feeling Derek wanted him just as badly, even though Stiles didn’t have superhuman abilities to detect desire and the rapidity of heartbeats and an influx of hormones. All Stiles had were eyes and ears and a very helpful ability to read people. And what he read from Derek was need. He saw it in the way Derek looked at him. The way he’d been looking at him for quite a while now. The way his face opened up to Stiles. The way he would consider something Stiles said long before he ever took someone else’s suggestion. The way he watched Stiles move. Stiles wasn’t blind at all. He knew Derek watched him, and he could tell how much Derek tried to be silent and distant. But that was a mask for the pain. The loss he’d always experienced.

As if by denying himself happiness, he could prevent more loss in his life. By denying himself Stiles, he could prevent losing Stiles.

People liked to treat Stiles like he was an idiot, but that was far from the truth.

Stiles ended the kiss slowly, the fevered workings of his mouth slowing down to nibbles and pecks, with his hands never leaving Derek. And still, no touching from Derek. The man had incredible self-control, because all Stiles wanted was to climb him and have his way with him.

“See. You can do it. Kissing is good. You didn’t devour me.”

Derek cleared his throat and stepped back, and Stiles couldn’t help himself. He glanced down at Derek’s crotch, to see the visual effects of the kiss, and he grinned at Derek’s bulge.

“Stop.”

“Sorry. Well, actually, I’m not. But since I have the same problem I figured it was only fair,” Stiles joked.

“We cannot do that very often,” Derek cleared his throat again, but the huskiness hadn’t left his voice.

“It would be nice though,” Stiles relaxed against the wall and looked up at him. “Really nice.”

“You need to listen to me better,” Derek scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I will.”

“No sex, and I mean it.” Derek reminded.

“Okay,” Stiles agreed. Stiles figured he’d agreed to damn near anything if it meant that they could kiss like that again. And the more often he kissed Derek, the more often Derek would struggle with himself. And that significantly increased Stiles’s chances of getting Derek.

Now, what he would do with him once he got him was something he’d have to research later.


End file.
